Still Here

There are still birds singing outside.

The wind is picking up, short gusts coming out of the northeast - but no rain yet, and there's still significant sunlight peeking through the clouds.

CNN.com says she's down to a (very strong) Category 3. All bless the Desert, sending hot, dry air to force her to spend energy rebuilding her eyewall instead of picking up more steam from the warm moistness of the Gulf. Io, Set!

Projected landfall is pretty much over Port Arthur sometime Saturday morning.

Our windows are taped up in the front room. The Spouse is going to work on the back room next. I'm going to be securing any objects that haven't already been put up and sticking them in the Harry closet or the carport (depending on how big they are - including the bag of trash that some moron left ON THE LAWN this morning.

--

I'm tired of talking about the hurricane. I'm going to talk about something else now.

What does it mean to be virtuous? I have been faced several times recently with the realization that something that I consider a virtue is seen by others as a vice; and once with the reverse realization - something I see as clearly a harmful thing is seen by, at the very least, a majority of my colleagues and most of my administration team, as a positive virtue.

Is there something more to "virtue" than "that which promotes weal"? If a society thinks something is a vice, is that enough to make it one? It seems obvious to me that some things (including all four of the house "virtues" from the HP books) are virtues or vices only in context, but it seems that this is a minority view as well - if bravery is a virtue, then it is virtuous even if it is bravery for a destructive purpose (such as, say, steering a truckful of explosives into a pizzeria). This leads to people doing weird things like calling suicide bombers "cowards," which I have an incredibly hard time wrapping my head around.

Still Here

There are still birds singing outside.

The wind is picking up, short gusts coming out of the northeast - but no rain yet, and there's still significant sunlight peeking through the clouds.

CNN.com says she's down to a (very strong) Category 3. All bless the Desert, sending hot, dry air to force her to spend energy rebuilding her eyewall instead of picking up more steam from the warm moistness of the Gulf. Io, Set!

Projected landfall is pretty much over Port Arthur sometime Saturday morning.

Our windows are taped up in the front room. The Spouse is going to work on the back room next. I'm going to be securing any objects that haven't already been put up and sticking them in the Harry closet or the carport (depending on how big they are - including the bag of trash that some moron left ON THE LAWN this morning.

--

I'm tired of talking about the hurricane. I'm going to talk about something else now.

What does it mean to be virtuous? I have been faced several times recently with the realization that something that I consider a virtue is seen by others as a vice; and once with the reverse realization - something I see as clearly a harmful thing is seen by, at the very least, a majority of my colleagues and most of my administration team, as a positive virtue.

Is there something more to "virtue" than "that which promotes weal"? If a society thinks something is a vice, is that enough to make it one? It seems obvious to me that some things (including all four of the house "virtues" from the HP books) are virtues or vices only in context, but it seems that this is a minority view as well - if bravery is a virtue, then it is virtuous even if it is bravery for a destructive purpose (such as, say, steering a truckful of explosives into a pizzeria). This leads to people doing weird things like calling suicide bombers "cowards," which I have an incredibly hard time wrapping my head around.

Dry, Baby, Dry

Oh, yeah. The eye isn't nearly as clear today. Katrina still had a very, very clear eye up until she hit the Louisiana barrier islands. Rita's losing her internal engine. (Now, if only she can keep from rebuilding it over theis last stretch of very, very warm water . . . )

Dry, Baby, Dry

Oh, yeah. The eye isn't nearly as clear today. Katrina still had a very, very clear eye up until she hit the Louisiana barrier islands. Rita's losing her internal engine. (Now, if only she can keep from rebuilding it over theis last stretch of very, very warm water . . . )

Wind, Path, Light

And the gods gave Utanapishtim the rainbow-sign,
Saying, 'Not the water, the fire next time.'

Well, okay, not quite. :) But the sky to the west of us is OMFG BRIGHT orange, with the sun showing through at the very horizon, and there's a near-180° arc of rainbow in the east.

There's a very strong breeze, and it's just now starting to drizzle (thus the rainbow). The cicadas haven't quit yet, although I haven't heard any birds since the wind picked up about an hour and a half ago.

Wind, Path, Light

And the gods gave Utanapishtim the rainbow-sign,
Saying, 'Not the water, the fire next time.'

Well, okay, not quite. :) But the sky to the west of us is OMFG BRIGHT orange, with the sun showing through at the very horizon, and there's a near-180° arc of rainbow in the east.

There's a very strong breeze, and it's just now starting to drizzle (thus the rainbow). The cicadas haven't quit yet, although I haven't heard any birds since the wind picked up about an hour and a half ago.

Queen of Rock 'n' Role?

Me to the Spouse, earlier this evening:

"You turn around in Beaumont, all you see is Rita."


He insisted that I post it . . .

Queen of Rock 'n' Role?

Me to the Spouse, earlier this evening:

"You turn around in Beaumont, all you see is Rita."


He insisted that I post it . . .

Memes? Who has time for memes?

From princejvstin:

"When you see this on your friends list, quote Shakespeare."

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in its steady pace from day to day,
Until the last syllable of recorded time.
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a poor player who struts and frets
His hour upon the stage, and then
Is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

The Scottish Play. From memory, of course. I probably screwed up the line breaks, and I don't remember what act or scene.

Memes? Who has time for memes?

From princejvstin:

"When you see this on your friends list, quote Shakespeare."

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in its steady pace from day to day,
Until the last syllable of recorded time.
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a poor player who struts and frets
His hour upon the stage, and then
Is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

The Scottish Play. From memory, of course. I probably screwed up the line breaks, and I don't remember what act or scene.